Blink and you've missed it!

Autumn Poetry (Pen) Pals #42

I wrote this post a few weeks ago. And then another topic popped into my head and I pushed it back a week. And then I remembered Halloween and back it went again. And then Samhain arrived, the leaves started piling themselves up in damp mounds and the whole thing felt irrelevant.

But as I went to send it to the drafts folder forever, I realised something. I realised that perhaps this post teaches me to embrace the end of Autumn as it really is. Every day as it really is. Maybe, actually, that was the real lesson required here. Funny how sometimes your writing will do that, when you’re not expecting it, if you’re open to noticing.

Anyway, see what you think.

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I’ve always thought of Autumn as the most fancy of seasons. A feather boa’d, high heeled, ruffle-tailed season of it’s own making. Autumn to me is like the encore of a play, all clapping and smiling at the person next to you before turning to put on your coat. And the thing is with encores is that they are celebratory, full of colour and exuberance and….short.

We went out with friends last weekend to do some ‘Autumning.’ We walked through the woods collecting leaves and literally trying to ‘catch’ the low light on our hands as it shimmered temptingly close. For all I moan about the use of phones, giving the older kids a photography challenge with the theme of ‘light’ meant that rather than complain (always short lived but still) they were all stop-start, comparing angles and textures. The younger ones leapt around with their bags wide open trying to swoop up the smaller leaves being blown from the trees. It sounds idyllic and it was, but just to provide some context there was also a major meltdown over leftover sand in a pair of wellies, my eldest insisted that her footwear choice would be crocs (?) because that’s how you roll when you’re 13 and I had forgotten the snacks.

But even that didn’t dampen the mood. I cannot count how many times we talked about the colours of the leaves. Sometimes my inability to find the right words feels physical. At certain times in every season I have this longing to get closer to the ground. Smell is one of my most heightened senses and I want my face right next to the soil. We hugged some trees (of course we did) and I wanted to stay way longer than anyone else. “It’s seems so short this season,” my friend commented, as the kids ran ahead and we crouched down to rub the furry side of sweet chestnuts between our fingers. Perhaps only with age do you feel the passing of time so acutely. “Blink and you miss it,” she mused.

Blink and you miss it.

Of course Autumn is the same length as all other seasons (although try as you might I’ll always insist Winter is longer!) but there is a part of it, a last hurrah that does seem more of a flash-in-the-pan. September can feel more summery than summer itself and is overwhelmed by back-to-school preparations. By mid November the winds have normally done their worst. And in-between times, there is this pocket of beauty so intense it aches.

I remember’d that the year before last we discovered a tree on a nearby walk that was probably the reddest red I had ever seen in my life. I wrote a poem about this tree it was so startling.

Last year I’d wanted to go and visit again but by the time we did, the leaves had all gone. It wasn’t even Halloween and the branches were bare. Of course, beauty is not only found in the spectacular and the challenge for me is always learning to admire the opposite. But still, my spirits were momentarily dampened as I described to the kids (who didn’t care either way) how beautiful it had been previously.

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Autumn, within. 

It was the redness of the red tree that did it.
I didn’t know its name.
My hands did not dig the soil it needed.
It’s likely I would have planted it somewhere it didn’t want to be.
And here it was - a remarkably red tree. 

We stopped to look at the tree.
My husband and my children agreed,
it was indeed a very red tree. 
They would soon after wind their way back to the car
shouting occasionally for me to hurry. 

And I would, eventually. 
Not without still looking over my shoulder.
Not without saying many times over, 
“Has anyone ever seen a tree redder than this?”
I wanted to insist,

I had not believed there could be such a red tree. 
With its leaves felt-tip pen red,
Its cherry-kisses planted on my lips finally,
a red, red tree. 
And all I can be sure of is,

that day I felt something Autumn within me.

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Said red tree a few years ago. No filter. Isn’t it red!!!

Anyway, once our shoes were suitably muddy (oh the crocs) we returned to my friend’s house for some Autumn crafting, mugs of tea and apple cinnamon flapjack she’d made earlier. I say ‘we’, the kids disappeared upstairs or into the garden and it was actually us who were left designing leaf hedgehogs - crafting is not just for kids!

As we picked out our favourites from the leap haul and snipped away at the crispy edges, we chatted away about our plans for the rest of the year and I felt a moment of immense gratitude. Gratitude for friendships, for creativity, for being able to notice Autumn in all it’s glory living in a country without war or famine or disaster.

This year I didn’t miss it. I didn’t miss it, I got to attend the performance on my doorstep and now Autumn is still running through my veins. I can’t keep it, of course. It is not mine to hold on to or slow down. I can only appreciate it. Work with it.

And write about it.

That I can do.

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A writing prompt for this week:

And so it is I turn to those who ARE able to put into words what this season means and does and is….

When Autumn Came by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, via Poets.org

‘When Autumn Came’ by Faiz Ahmed Faiz via Poets.org. The last line. Wow.

Neighbors in October by David Baker via The Poetry Foundation

Neighbors in October by David Baker, via The Poetry Foundation.

Matthew Francis, Ladybird Summer, in The Forward Book of Poetry 2021

Ladybird Summer by Matthew Francis, from The Forward Book of Poetry 2021. The tart sunshine at the end is just glorious.

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I know we are not all experiencing the same season right now. And even those of us who are living in the same location will be experiencing the season in such different ways.

Which made me think about a ‘way in’ to a poem. I wondered if you we could ‘write’ and describe the ‘season’ that we are seeing / feeling / sensing / living right now. Which might indeed be metaphorical if required, or nostalgic or literally right outside our windows.

I am still craving Autumn, I don’t want to miss an inch of it, I want to surround myself in it entirely even as I feel it slipping away. Can you tell us about your back garden or local area, or favourite spot in nature at this time of year. Or tell us a story that encapsulates Autumn or this time of year for you. Is it something you cook? A certain smell? Or an event you attend. Is it a certain spot in your house, the way the light lands, a moment you’ve had with a loved one recently?

Is there something, anything about this time of year that you’d want to tell us about before the trees say their final goodbye for Winter?

I hope so,

Nelly x